Dreams
by free spoons
Summary: Dreams, sometimes they mean something, sometimes they are just plain weird
1. Dream One

Dreams

By

SpOOt

Summary: At night, things rarely make sense…

Rating: Nothing to shocking in here. Just giving it PG-13 c'oz it makes me feel like a big person.

Disclaimer: Anyone you recognize would belong to someone that is not SpOOt.

Note: I was having insomnia, so this happened, enjoy! And if you don't understand anything Harry or anyone else says, you've got the point of this.

Feedback: acburnett@roanoke.edu 

anything you send is all good. unless its porn. then its deleted.

Check out other stuff: 

To my bro amigo, Lance Corporal Joseph B. Maglione…fuckin' Iraqi assholes…RIP

* * *

_Sometime in the near future_

Outside, wind and rain lashed at the windows, but all those inside barely noticed.

Inside the heat from well-tended fires made all the occupants of Hogwarts dry and content. Up in the dormitories most of the students were sound asleep. Here and there, one would toss in a dream. One of these students was Harry Potter.

In his dream, he was half-asleep. He was lying on a bed he had never seen before when a voice cried out.

"Wake up Harry." The Voice was stern, but Harry ignored it. As foreign as the bad was to him, Harry still wanted sleep.

"Time to get up, child," The Voice urged Harry once more. This time, Harry's dream self sat up. "Good."

"Is it time?" Harry asked.

"When was it ever not?"

Harry accepted the answer and got out of the bed. When he walked out of the bedroom, he found himself in the middle of an abandoned Platform 9 3/4th.

"This is where it starts?" Harry bobbed his head as if in understanding.

"Move just a little to the left."

Harry obeyed The Voice. After two steps Harry stopped. "This is the spot? Isn't it? This is where the change started?"

"Yes. Don't you feel it too?"

Harry didn't respond. He was looking at his hands. They weren't his, were they? He squinted and thought he saw a speckle of blood on them.

"Oh, they are mine, aren't they?" Harry pondered the new information for a few seconds before looking over the train station. "The symbolism is almost too much sometimes. Bloody Hands? Train Stations? I'm surprised it took me this long to understand it all." Harry began to laugh until tears were streaming down his face.

Hard used his bloodied hands to wipe the tears away, and when he looked up he was in the cupboard that had been his bedroom for 10 years.

"This should make things clearer." The Voice said.

Harry frowned. Bloody Hands? Train Stations? Dusty Stairs? Now it made no sense to him.

"Turn." The Voice commanded. Harry began thrashing his body left and right.

"I think I'm sick now." Harry came to a sudden stop. He looked around the cupboard once more before shouting; "This isn't where I'm suppose to be!" With a sudden burst of speed, he tore out of the cupboard, through the Slytherin Common Room, and finally, pushing tables out of the way, stopped in the middle of Snape's Potion Dungeon. "This is closer to where I should be, I think." Harry looked at his surroundings.

"It's rather dark in here." The Voice stated.

"I know. I can fix that. I work with wires." Harry opened the exit and walked through it just to find himself walking back into Snape's Dungeon. "Guess I belong here."

"What? In the dark?" Harry turned to see a stranger sitting on Snape's desk. "Harry, the blood isn't yours. You left that behind long ago. You do belong over there." The Stranger pointed at the door Harry just tried to use.

"I thought I already tried to get away…" Harry was puzzled.

"You did. And you failed once already. You may fail again. Is that a reason to stop? Here, try using these." The Stranger handed Harry a red hair band. "Helps keep the hair off your nape." The Stranger started laughing. "Get it? 'Off your nape'?"

Harry looked at the hair band. A sudden realization overcame him and he threw it down with discuss. "That's a horrible joke! I won't put that thing anywhere near me!"

The Stranger stopped his laughing and stared at the discarded hair band. "Are you sure you can't use it properly?"

"It's better off here."

"Okay then," The Stranger bent to pick up the hair band. "**_GO!_**" he suddenly shrieked.

"**I WILL!**" Harry screamed back, opening the door and running through it.

"I told you that you might fail again," The Stranger scolded Harry from atop Snape's desk. "You didn't use all that was given to you."

Harry walked up to The Stranger and took the fiery red hair band. "So, this isn't…"

"No, but you're young. And you're scarred there." The Stranger gave no indication where "there" was. "But take solace young child," The Stranger took the hair band back. "Somewhere behind you is the ability to stand up to The Dragon."

* * *

Harry woke up slowly to see the storm had passed during the night.

"Harry! Are you up yet?" Ron Weasley poked his head in the bedroom. "'Bout time. Come on lets go get something to eat."

Harry got out of bed, his dream already forgotten.

* * *

Note: Nope, this ain't the end of it. There's more, including an eventual explanation for everything. But it takes time and whatnot. So go to the next chapter, get a little more confused, tell me how much you don't like this, then wait for the next chapters which _SLOWLY_ explain what's going down.

Come on! you're gunna tell me you can read 400+ page books, wait 2 years, read another one, but you wont spend five minutes to read the next chapter?


	2. Dream Two

Dream Two

still by

SpOOt

Dudes, feedback ain't just a river in Egypt!

acburnett@roanoke.edu

Note: There are reasons for the punctuation and spelling in this one. If you keep reading it gets explained.

Bonus points if you can tell what The Stranger and Harry are watching. It's two different movies.

To my bro amigo, Lance Corporal Joseph B. Maglione…fuckin' Iraqi assholes…RIP

* * *

_Sometime later…_

This time the dream came much quicker. Harry fell asleep then found himself sitting on an overstuffed couch watching television.

"Wassup, home slice?" The Stranger asked. He had the remote to the TV in his hand. 

"Nothing much. Howa' ye been?" Harry saw a bowl of popcorn next to him and took a handful.

"I have to tell you, this television thing? It's gunna to catch on one day."

"_…Excuse me for not knowing about El Salvador, like I'm ever going to Spain anyway…_" a voice from the TV lamented.

"What're we watchin'?" Harry asked

The Stranger shrugged. "Don' know. All I know is I thinkin' she's pretty hot." The Stranger pointed at the girl on the screen.

"Not bad lookin'. I have a question." Harry spat out some of the popcorn. It tasted like cherry.

"Shoot." The Stranger changed channels.

"_Is this heaven?._"The TV asked.

"Why am I here?"

"Ah!" The Stranger flipped back to the first show. "It's to relax righ' now."

"_Does the word "duh" mean anything to you?_" The girl from the first movie accused.

"Why do I need ta relax?" Harry stretched out his body. He didn't mind relaxing. But why this way?

"You wouldn't believe meh if I told ya." The Stranger told Harry.

"Try meh."

The Stranger looked at the TV.

"_None of the other girls ever gave me this much trouble_." A man on the TV sighed.

"Okay, so here's the deal." The Stranger took some of Harry's cherry-flavored popcorn. "The Big Men, the guys, in the non-gender way, in charge of everything, need a warrior. They choose you. They can't undo this, and you are so about to crack. So they doin' everything they can to help ya."

"Usin' dreams?" Harry was annoyed. There had to be better ways.

"Yeah."

"I mean, when I'm in these dreams, I remem'er the other ones, but never when I'm awake. What help are they?"

"_…You're the guy. You're the chosen guy_." Someone on the TV shouted.

"Like the movie said, you're the guy," The Stranger also spat out his popcorn. "Besides, The Big Men can't interfere directly. If you choose not to remember your dreams, than you can. But They, and I for that matter, cannot force ya into anything."

"Is this out of some book? You have got to be kiddin' me!" Harry groaned.

"I know, it is like some book, ain't it? But then again, where do you think authors get their inspirations? Themselves? Bwa, right! The Big Men give it to 'em."

"One other question. Why the hell am I speaking so strange? I sound like a Yank!"

"Not just any Yank there Harry, you're speaking like a Southerner. Nice drawl an' all."

"Okay, Southerner than, but why?"

"Oh God, you're gunna make me answer this, ain't cha?" Harry nodded an affirmative. "It has somethin' to do with relaxin' tones. 'Parently, the way were speakin' now is the tone, and I quote 'Most likely to result in a temporary state of calmness and / or relaxation.'" 

"Now that sound like some corporate bullshit." 

"Good, I'm not the only one." The Stranger flipped off the TV. "So that was the one question you had?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'll be seein' ya then."

* * *

Harry woke up back in his bed at Hogwarts, oblivious to the conversation he just had.

* * *

Note: Now if you're still reading this, next chapter should be coming just after Easter. I do have exams that week, but I've decided that I don't care so...I've got a lot of free time now.


End file.
